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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273167">Fidelity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterBoyf/pseuds/MonsterBoyf'>MonsterBoyf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>VIXX</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghost! Hakyeon, Ghosts, I'm Sorry, RAVI El Dorado Collab, Suicide, This was meant to be happier.., discussion of suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:27:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterBoyf/pseuds/MonsterBoyf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lofi is known for its ability to inhibit nostalgia, apparently, even in ghosts, or maybe that's more the fault of the maker.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>RAVI El Dorado Collab</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fidelity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Right away I have to say this is not like my other fics. I have to immediately warn you that this deals with suicide, quite particularly towards the end. If that is a sensitive or triggering subject for you DO NOT READ THIS. </p><p>For those of you that can handle it, welcome. I'm very glad to participate in another large collab like the parallel collab. This one was much more close knit, just me and ten other authors. I think I enjoy the more "close quaters" of this project more than parallel. It also helps that I know or at least recognize most of the names here. Please check out the other authors' works in this collection and enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"So you're not like, creeped out about the fact some guy died in here?" Jaehwan questioned, helping Wonshik put away his dishes. Boxes still filled up a majority of the kitchen, and the entirety of the bedroom and studio. Wonshik shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I mean, people die everywhere. And it's not like he was murdered." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can still be a ghost if you kill yourself, Shik.." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop it. There's no ghost, and if there is, don't you think he'd be lonely? I dont see what ghost wouldn't love to have a roommate again." Jaehwan gave Wonshik a look as he switched to putting away the coffee mugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wonshik, have you ever seen a ghost movie? They tend to not like it when you trespass on their land."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah dude, if you get ghost murdered, that's on you," Hongbin added, finally coming in with bags in tow. He was sent off to the store to get cleaning supplies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You guys are supposed to be happy about my new place! And I thought I told you no snacks!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You made me walk all the way to the store. I deserve a reward." Hongbin easily dismissed Wonshik as he tore open the plastic on a three pack of lysol wipes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We are happy, Shikkie, we just also don't want you to die here." Jaehwan came over, hanging off Wonshik's back with arms around his shoulders. Wonshik whined, but didn't pry the elders hands off of him. Badass finally came back in after his sniff around the entire house. He sat between his dad's legs, looking around like the world's smallest and least threatening guard dog. He had been weird ever since Wonshik brought him into the house. Wonshik hoped he'd be able to settle in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am not going to die!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Give up on him, Hwan. He's probably one of those types that thinks a haunting is hot." Wonshik smacked the chip out of Hongbin's hand in retaliation. "Hey!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Drop the ghost thing already. You're going to make me paranoid of my own house." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why couldn't you just come live with me and Taeky?" Jaehwan questioned with a pout, dropping off of Wonshik to steal some of Hongbin's chips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to be on my own, Jaehwan." Wonshik took the wipes and moved to the box of collectables on the table. "Plus, I'd rather sell my skin to Hongbin than have to see you two make out or have whatever weird sex you have." Hongbin laughed at Jaehwan's face. His jaw was dropped, eyes wide, and cheeks heating up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We do not-! It's not-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aww, Shikkie, I think you broke him," Hongbin cooed before getting pummeled by Jaehwan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shut up you dickhead! I hope Wonshik's ghost kills you, bastard!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonshik had been making music for years. That's why he had moved out to this house on the border of middle-of-nowhere. Two rooms, one bath, lovely little backyard in front of a shining ocean of golden wheat. It was perfect. Wonshik had his bedroom, and then turned the spare room into his studio. All of the equipment came from fans' donations. He was proud of that, starting so underground no one knew your name to being able to live just off your music. It validated what he was doing, nights he spent cramped up in a closet singing into a shitty twenty dollar mic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He carefully unwrapped his electric keyboard from its blankets. His foolish younger self assumed he would never be able to move out of that shitty apartment, so the box was chucked out. It had really been a shock he even did move out. The only reason he could get a place this nice in such a sweet tiny neighborhood was because of the ghost situation and the seller's desperation. No one wanted a house out in the middle of nowhere where someone died. The house came at a rent about the same as Wonshik's old apartment, and Wonshik had to pay for the right to breath</span>
  <span>e</span>
  <span> in a city before. Now, there was nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> space. Wonshik hooked up his keyboard, adding another wire to the mass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was ten at night when Wonshik finally finished setting up the home studio. Purple and pink bulbs were lit to give the area its signature glow, the equipment was all set up, and the computer had finally booted up entirely. Badass was laying on the couch opposite to the desk, snoring away. Wonshik felt tired of unpacking, but not exhausted enough for bed. He'd work on something, just a little thing to ease his mind into a more relaxed place. He was a rapper through and through, but at times his music diverged, taking a more R&amp;B, lofi kind of aesthetic. Easy to listen to. He had some old drafts waiting in his folders that just needed a better beat, or maybe an accompanying vocal. He pulled up his program before stepping out to get a drink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lofi was something he was shown, rather than found. His old college roommate Taekwoon listened to it. It helped with his anxiety and insomnia, he said. Wonshik had to agree after a few listens. It was relaxing, and the use of rain sound effects or soft voices speaking added to an air of… nostalgia. When he listened to Taekwoon's favorites, he oddly felt a little closer to the reserved roommate, like he had gotten a small glimpse into him. His favorites were all so somber, with the voices of children playing  at times. Wonshik joked that such a concept sounded really creepy, but it felt different in execution. Wonshik got a distinct flashback to being a little boy with teeth missing running over to the playground to play until sundown. Wonshik started to understand why Taekwoon listened to such seemingly simple music. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonshik filled a glass with water from the tap, watching it swirl in the cup before he turned off the tap. It was so quiet out here, almost unnervingly so. The only thing Wonshik heard was himself gulping down sips, the wind outside, and the AC kicking on. The hanging light over the dining table swayed slightly and Wonshik stared up at it. Morbidly, he remembered what the realtor had said. The crack in the ceiling was from the old light. The previous owner had climbed up onto his chair and hung himself from the light fixture, partly pulling it from the ceiling. A chill rolled up Wonshik's spine before he looked away from the new light. Even if it was a clean death, it was still disturbing to think about. Someone was so hurt and alone in this house that they did something so painful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When did it get so fucking cold?" Wonshik left his glass on the counter, moving to his bedroom to get a hoodie. He swore that he had the temperature higher than this. Best </span>
  <span>to</span>
  <span> just stay in the studio where it was warm. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonshik pulled off his headphones when he could finally hear Butt’s barking over the music. He turned around in his desk chair to see the bulldog barking at the window. The wind was quietly howling outside, but there wasn’t anything to see. You could only just barely see the neighbor’s crop blowing in the wind. Wonshik sighed and put his headphones down on the desk. For just a brief second, when the light hit the glass perfectly, you could almost see a figure. Wonshik stood and picked up his chunky little dog, immediately quieting him. Butt still growled though, staring resolutely at the table in front of the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a big scary bulldog, baby?” he asked in his babiest voice, scratching Butt’s head. The dog stopped his growling, wagging his tail. Wonshik had to laugh. He was such a silly puppy. Big baby. Wonshik went back to his desk, moving Butt’s bed under his desk with his toes. The dog gladly laid at his feet while Wonshik sat down and pulled his headphones back on. He was almost done, and it was only… two am. His stomach grumbled as if to cement the fact that Wonshik should have been in bed at this point. Time just seemed to slip from his fingers at this desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd just finish this and go to bed. All the instrumentals were in place to create a happier kind of background music. It oddly made him think of his sister, how the wind and blossoms were when he was with her for her graduation. She would probably love the house and its quaint charm.  Once he got unpacked he would invite her, and their parents. It had been so long since he had seen them, busy with music and moving. The song's beat was on acoustic guitar, while the harmony was a cute electronic sound on his synth. All that was left was the sampling. Wonshik had the book next to him since he started, the one he wanted to read a passage from to cement the mood. He must have forgotten to turn off the microphone though, and apparently he already had a bit of recording put down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hm. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At this point, I have to ask myself if there's really a point in chasing anymore. He's a shadow I can see and long for, but chasing him will never get me closer. And yet, even so, I do. I love him. He makes me the happiest person in the world and I wouldn't be complete without him. I don't care if I'm a passing blip in his radar, if he has someone already that makes up his focus, I will love him. And I will love him whether he's here or there, whether I can touch him or only touch photographs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That wasn't Wonshik's voice. It was distorted, but Wonshik was not that good. He did not have a honey smooth voice that easily slipped into every word without effort. He did not sound that ethereal, or deathly distant. Wonshik hesitated to look over his shoulder. The room was just as empty as it was before, him and Badass. He turned back to his desk and turned off the microphone with shaking hands. That was the first paragraph on the book's page, a heartbroken hopeless romantic confiding in his friend. Alright, that was enough for tonight. Wonshik saved his work and stood up, shaking out his hands like they were wet. He was going to have someone look at it tomorrow. Yeah. That's what he was going to do. Someone could tell him he's not crazy. The computer was shut off and Badass was called over. He was definitely sleeping with his master tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>Did any of you fuck with my equipment one day to scare me?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>No??</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Why would we do that?</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I don't even know how to work ur shit</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I found this scary ass recording that I know I didnt make last night</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>It's the ghost!!!☠👻</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Jaehwan stfu</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>:( </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I'm gonna check it out when I get the courage to go in there lol</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Shik, you sound like every white person in a horror movie ever</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>GKAGJSGJ HE DOES THO </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonshik sighed and put the phone down, rubbing his face with his hands. Why did he even bother talking to them? Badass was at the foot of the bed, snoring away. The bedroom wasn't as cold as when Wonshik came in that night, which was a small comfort. With a groan he forced himself out of bed. He grabbed his phone and Badass trailed after him as he walked to the kitchen. Wonshik clumsily fed his dog as he looked up '</span>
  <em>
    <span>how to know if you're haunted</span>
  </em>
  <span>.' </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cold. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was chillier than expected when Wonshik came down for a drink. Check. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Objects moving</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Wonshik couldn't remember anything being out of place, not that it had a place right now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Upset animals</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Was that why Badass was barking at the window..? A solid maybe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Previous death</span>
  </em>
  <span>s </span>
  <em>
    <span>on the land</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A regretful check. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Electrical interference.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Now that was interesting. Wonshik sat down with a bowl of cereal while he read the article. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ghosts do not exist on a physical plane, because of this, they often cause electrical interference. For decades, people have been using radios, electricity, and microphones to detect ghosts. Witnesses often claim there is a 'static' effect, or a distortion upon the video or audio. Audio is usually muffled, hard to understand. Some have reported wailing of phantoms. In rare cases, it has been claimed that powerful ghosts have entirely broken cameras, fried computers, or shattered screens in explosions of energy. Loss of phone signal is commonly a sign, though is more often linked to remote locations ghosts haunt. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Obviously the phone signal wasn't bad, since the texts to the group chat had come so quickly, but that did explain the mic, and the distorted voice reading the page. Wonshik tapped at the bowl as he thought. It definitely sounded like there was a ghost, but who the fuck would believe that? Wonshik was having a hard time believing it and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> ghost.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"You asked fucking r/ghosts? You went to </span>
  <em>
    <span>reddit</span>
  </em>
  <span> for your ghost problem?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well yeah! Do you know any local ghost experts? Yeah, didn't think so." Wonshik set the microphone down on the kitchen table, Taekwoon dropping the cord he was told to carry. There were three mice set up all around the house now, Taekwoon and Jaehwan being reluctant participants. Jaehwan sat on the couch with Badass, eating Wonshik's leftovers for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What did they tell you?" Jaehwan asked with his mouth full.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"To move." Taekwoon laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're smarter than you then." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And also to try and catch footage, or audio other than the voice recording." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can we hear it?" Jaehwan asked, suddenly interested in something more than the cheap Chinese food Wonshik ordered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to get cursed?" Taekwoon scolded. Jaehwan shrugged, standing to hang on Wonshik's side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can we hear, Shikkie? Pleaseee?" Wonshik nodded leading them to the studio. The book was still there, now closed. Wonshik nervously turned on his computer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't know what happened, it just appeared here. I was finishing it up and then I saw there was a mic layer I didn't add." Wonshik selected the layer and played it from the beginning of the voice. Thank god it was still there, otherwise he might seem insane. The other two stared at the screen as that eerily calm distorted voice began to read. He watched their expressions turn to abject discomfort and shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wonshik, you need to burn this house down." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please tell us he's not here now…" Wonshik closed out the program. </span>
</p><p><span>"I'm not burning the house down, or getting it exorcized</span> <span>or something."</span></p><p>
  <span>"Why not?!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He obviously wasn't happy when he died here, guys. And he's obviously not happy now if his spirit is still here. I don't want to kick him out of his own home." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wonshik, it's a ghost, not a dog," Taekwoon deadpanned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm being serious! What if you died right now in your house and left Jaehwan alone! Would you want him kicking you out?" The two exchanged a look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's different."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah! Taeky knows me!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just want him to move on peacefully. If I try to kick him out who's to say he won't get angrier?" Taekwoon sighed, going to leave the study. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're the type to make friends with roaches." Wonshik huffed at his friend, but Jaehwan dragged his attention away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You really don't want it gone?" He asked softly, leaning against the desk beside Wonshik. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I mean, I guess. I don't want to kick him out but I didn't really anticipate a ghost roommate." Jaehwan snorted. "I just feel bad, y'know? This poor guy was so miserable before he died, and now he's still stuck here." Jaehwan nodded, patting Wonshik's thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I get it, Shikkie. You're so tenderhearted." Wonshiked whined at the praise. He wasn't tender hearted, he was considerate, and also scared that if he tried anything he'd die via ghost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you two done?" Taekwoon questioned, reappearing in the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This account has been marked as an </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>archive</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonshik couldn't really describe the thought process that led him here. There were six empty beer cans taking up what little desk space he had in the home studio, and a seventh in hand. In the other hand he had his phone. It wasn't uncommon for social media to still exist after someone died, but only loved ones or absolute creeps would go through it.  Wonshik was not the former. He had been working on a song before. Some introspective, soft spoken rap. The mood wore him down though. When he went to get a drink, the beer called to him and he grabbed that instead. Thus, he was now doing the saddest thing possible and going through his ghost's old facebook. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was exactly what you expected. The top was all prayers for him, posts he was tagged in on how much he was missed, updates from his family on the funeral process. What was more jarring was what was further down, before the death. You never think what your account will look like when you die. You don't consider how unnerving it feels to look at photos of your smiling face and happy words knowing that all those smiles weren't purely genuine, that an untimely death was coming. Wonshik had trouble swallowing his already tasteless beer thinking about it. Would he even be able to guess how he would have died by looking at all of this? He didn't even seem that unloved or unhappy. He had photos with him and his friends, his family, he shared memes for God's sake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There wasn't a suggestion that he was sick, or lonely, or struggling. He looked.. normal. Wonshik supposed that's the way it is. What is different about a depressed person compared to a typical one other than the chemical balance in their brain? He shouldn't expect that the ghost have '</span>
  <em>
    <span>I hate my life</span>
  </em>
  <span>' written in neon on his forehead in his old pictures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Went out with Soo for his birthday~ I had to black mail for this picture lol</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wanted to thank ahjumma for this blanket she knitted!! Isn't it beautiful? I sleep with it every night now, it's so warm </span>
  </em>
  <span>♡</span>
  <em>
    <span> thank you sincerely, you'll be getting my letter soon I hope!" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Thank you all for the birthday wishes today </span>
  </em>
  <span>❤❤</span>
  <em>
    <span> they mean a lot, even when some of you are calling me old (Yikyung </span>
  </em>
  <span>🙄</span>
  <em>
    <span>)" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I hope everyone is doing alright with everything that's been going on. I know it's rough but you'll get through it. I'm always available to listen as well. No one should have to suffer silently." </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonshik put the phone down and rubbed hands over his face, groaning into them. His heart ached beneath his ribs, urging to get tugged out. He dropped them into his lap as he looked at his desk, his keyboard, his mic. The mics they set up around the house didn't pick up anything all week. Radio silence. He checked the files every night and only found his own voice and Badass' barks picked up. No static, no whispers, no ghost. This was the first time he was back in the studio. He switched on the mic, setting it up to have automatic feedback to the computer speakers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey," he heard himself echo through the electronics, "I don't know if you can hear me man, or if you're really actually here or not, but I'm sorry. Sorry I came into your house and just planted my feet…" He waited for the echo to stop, the room and speakers to fall silent. They did, and stayed that way until Wonshik continued. "I'm sorry you were so lonely, or depressed, or whatever it was that pushed you over the edge. It must be hell on earth to have wanted to move on so bad and still be stuck here." Wonshik's throat felt scratchy suddenly. He cleared it as he shoved his cold hands under his arms. He blinked away the wetness on his lashes. He was such an emotional drunk, it was pitiful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't have to say sorry…" Wonshik jumped at the reply, nearly fell out of his chair, but he recovered. It was most definitely that honey voice, the one that slightly broke with distortion reading the book. It spoke so soft and sweet, almost cancelling the chill up his spine. "It's not your fault, and no one believes in ghosts anyway."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It- it was a sympathetic sorry, about the dead stuff, not taking your house."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please don't let that mean you want to leave." The pinch of pain in that plea was like salt to the knife. Wonshik rubbed at his 'definitely not stabbed like it felt it was' side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'd prefer I stay?" There was a silence.  It lasted a beat too long, long enough that Wonshik fidgeted in his seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There are mirrors here. You can see me in them, like the window." Wonshik immediately turned in his chair to see. Is that what disturbed Badass so much? It wasn't like there was some man standing on the other side of the glass, but rather, a weak reflection. A reflection of someone Wonshik couldn't see. It was like a shadow on the glass. Wonshik got up to take the hanging mirror from his bedroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first he didn't see anything. He set it up to sit directly in front of his monitor, reflecting himself. That was all he saw, black hair askew and uneasy look plastered on his face. He held his breath when he saw a ghostly hand coming in. It wasn't blue or something like Casper or a cartoon. The only sign it was the ghost was the translucency of it, the way he could kind of see the wall behind them. The hand rested on the back of the chair and then the rest slowly stepped in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked… exactly like the pictures, short messy black hair, dark skin, soft gentle eyes that now had a pained hint to them. He was just in a black t-shirt and sweats. The cut of the shirt was the issue. It left the entirety of his long neck exposed. His long neck which was segmented by the ugliest wound. A rope burn that went around his whole neck. His smile was grim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unnerving, I know." Wonshik gulped, steadying his voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hi." The smile cracked into a little more genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm Wonshik." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know. Your friends are Taekwoon, Jaehwan, and- what was the other one?" Wonshik gulped and nodded once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hongbin."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, Hongbin. I'm Hakyeon." Wonshik nodded again, trying so hard for his drunken eyes to not linger on that rope burn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-I know. I went through your.. facebook. I hope that's okay." Wonshik flinched watching the ghostly hand raise and come to pat his shoulder. He didn't feel it, but he saw it pass through him like water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay. It's not like i can use it now." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah…" Wonshik mumbled, looking down at the hands in his lap. Maybe it would have been better if he was a wrathful ghost. This was so tense. He glanced up again at the mirror before looking back down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can tell you're looking at it,  you don't need to feel bad." Wonshik watched as Hakyeon touched the wound, began to pull the skin from his flesh in-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop! Please, I'm already drunk,  I don't need to throw up." Hakyeon put his hand down again, after smoothing the skin back down. "Doesn't that hurt?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hurt? No, I don't feel anything physically anymore."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You feel other stuff..?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Emotions are strong when you're a ghost. That's why we're usually wailing, withering widows."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You seem fine though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I seemed that way before, didn't I?" Hakyeon tilted his head and Wonshik felt like he swallowed a brick. Dumbass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry. I-" Hakyeon waved the apology away before it was even complete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's fine. I've done all my crying. This house was empty for years." He let out an empty laugh. "If I thought I felt alone before…" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry you had to feel that way." Hakyeon gave him that pained smile again. Wonshik's heart strings were pulled taut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry too, Wonshik."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your… your family says they miss you. On the page…" Hakyeon nodded, suddenly beginning to wander. He passed out of the mirror’s view. Wonshik imagined him looking at his things, gracing his ghostly fingers over each object pensively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I figured," the microphone echoed, "I had already taken this form when people came in. My boss and an officer, they found me.." </span>
  <em>
    <span>hanging</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wonshik's brain finished. His arms were covered in goosebumps. "They took my body, so I don't know what happened next, but after a few days my family came in, went through my things. Mom was always crying… Am I talking too much?" Hakyeon questioned after Wonshik wiped his face with his sleeve, sniffling.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"N-no, I'm just- kind of a crybaby."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry. Being dead and alone so long you kind of linger on certain things, memories." He didn't continue his story further, letting Wonshik gather himself. He dried his face and cleared his throat as he sat back, trying to ignore that outpouring of emotion. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He had watched the morning of his own life</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You said you couldn't follow your body. Does that mean you're haunting the house?" Hakyeon hummed affirmatively, still out of the mirror frame. In the window, you could see the shadowy reflection of him behind Wonshik's reflection, to his left. He turned to face approximately where the ghost was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I believe so. My unfinished business wasn't with my body or person." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What was it?" Hakyeon didn't immediately answer. The microphone remained quiet and Wonshik was suddenly aware of how cold his fingertips were. They were practically frozen in the ghost's presence. Helping with unfinished business, it would help. Hakyeon could move on and be happy again, or at least not be stuck on the earth he wanted to be free from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have you heard those stories, Wonshik? Of people talking about how they survived suicide? What it felt like jumping off bridges or walking into traffic?" Wonshik shook his head softly. "They always say, just as they jump or before they hit the water, they suddenly regret it. Seconds from what seems to be the end, they realize they didn't want that anymore, that everything could be fixed or the problem really wasn't as valuable as their life." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that what happened to you?" A long pause moving agonizingly slow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hanging is not a fast death, not typically. If you don't have enough height, you suffocate slowly rather than quickly snap your neck. I kicked the chair and hung there for what felt like </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours,</span>
  </em>
  <span> choking, struggling. That's why it looks like this now." He finally came back to the mirror again, but he wasn't facing it. You saw his side profile, him staring out the window. Ghostly tears dropped off his chin but the only change you heard was the microphone picking up more static. "I realized, when I was trying to claw my way free, I didn't want to die, I just wanted to not feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>so alone. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I felt so left behind that I didn't think anyone would miss me, that I'd just be dust in the wind." Wonshik wiped his face quickly when Hakyeon turned to face him in the mirror. The tears had a milky white appearance on his face, rolling down his cheeks. "You know how they say life flashes before your eyes? I saw all of it in painfully slow detail. I had to see and think of all the lives I would destroy as I started to fade out. All of that, and then I'm still here. I'm still stuck here." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonshik's hands were shaking. He had to shove them under his arms and steady his breath. The story, the regret staining his voice, was made worse by the microphone. As he grew more pained, his voice distorted more, like Wonshik was listening to him on a broken record. Low fidelity to his true voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"W-what is your business then?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A friend, I think. Whatever cruel fate left me here to learn I wasn't alone, that people cared." The foggy tears stopped, fading away into nothing. "That's a best guess though." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I could do it." Hakyeon blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-I can do it, at least if you want that." Wonshik licked his lips, trying for courage. "You deserve to be happy, a-and if you didn't get that in life then you should at least get it now. You needed someone to pull you out and be there and no one did, so here I am." Wonshik puffed with confidence, but then sunk back into himself at Hakyeon's slight smile. You can't demand friendship, and it wasn't like Hakyeon would have a choice in knowing Wonshik, it was insensitive to ask-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hakyeon's hands rested on his shoulders and he rested his forehead against the back of Wonshik's head. Wonshik felt like he had ice cubes pressed against his skin, frostbite stings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You make me miss living, Wonshik. Thank you…" </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you're feeling like Hakyeon, please talk to someone. I tried my best not to glamorize anything so maybe it helps in seeing it's not the way out. If it will help, here is a link to international hotlines and the US one as well. The site offers other contacts and resources as well.<br/>http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html</p><p>I'm sorry you were forced to see this sad ass story and I hope the other writers works are able to cheer you up. I know this has been a stressful and anxiety ridden month. You'll get through this. </p><p>contact Info:<br/><a href="https://minoru-hayashi.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a><br/><a href="https://twitter.com/russ__Ant">Twitter</a><br/><a href="https://www.deviantart.com/rus-ant">DA</a><br/><a href="https://curiouscat.me/russ__Ant">Curious Cat</a><br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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